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Prologue

WITH BELLS ON

One

THIS WAS THE DAY I was getting married

Our suite at the Ritz in Half Moon Bay was in chaos My best friends and I had stripped down to our underwear, and our street clothes had been flung over the furniture Sorbet-colored dresses hung fros and door frames

The scene looked like a Degas painting of ballerinas before the curtain went up, or maybe a romanticized bordello in the Wild West Jokes were cracked Giddiness reigned — and then the door opened and ht smile, pain visible at the corners of her eyes

“What’s wrong, Cat?” I asked

“He’s not here”

I blinked, tried to ignore the sharp pang of disappointment I said sarcastically, “Well, there’s a shock”

Cat was talking about our father, Marty Boxer, who left ho I’d seen him only twice in the past ten years and hadn’t , I’d had an expectation

“He said he would be here He promised,” Cat said

I’m six years older than my sister and a century ed her